


People Like You Have No Imagination

by snarkasaurus



Series: Fictober 2018 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:43:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: Fictober 2018 Day 2. Stiles and Derek.





	People Like You Have No Imagination

All you have to do is believe. Just believe. The power of magic lies in the strength of your belief. Deaton’s original advice echoed in Stiles’ head every time he did magic. 

Maybe it was because he wasn’t _supposed_ to be able to do magic. By rights, all he was (according to Deaton) was a spark. All he really should be able to do was ignite others’ abilities in things. Except because the base power of magic lay in imagination, Stiles could imagine himself into better land of more powerful magic, which gave him more power and a better way to imagine himself into increased power...and so on. He’d found a loophole, and Stiles was exactly the kind of person to exploit it. 

Take right now for example. He was out here, Green-Lantern-ing it up, imagining each of his wolves as more powerful, more capable, stronger, faster than this damned wendigo they were chasing down, and it was _working_. His grin was sharp, razor edged as Erica rushed the creature, distracting it long enough for Derek to swing wicked sharp claws and behead it. 

“Back away,” he barked, stepping forward and pointing his hand at the head. “Derek, back _away_.” Stiles waited until the now confused wolves were out of range before focusing, thinking, believing that he could shoot a jet of fire from his hand. Brilliant blue-green fire shot out in a stream, igniting the wendigo head. Once it was little more than a black charred blob smoking on the curiously unmarked forest floor, he turned the stream to the body twitching spasmodically nearby. He immolated that, too, eyes focused on what he was doing and ignoring the stares he could feel boring into his spine. 

When he finally turned, leaving the remains of the wendigo smoking behind him, Stiles caught the horrified-curious-confused-intrigued looks of the pack. “What?” he asked, fighting against the instinct to draw his shoulders up defensively. 

“How...how did you do that?” Derek demanded. “I thought you didn’t have any power.” 

Stiles scoffed. “People like you have no imagination.”


End file.
